Winter's Tale

THE firelight flagged and ruddied on us all.
My father read; his dark beard in the glow
Moved slowly as the strong lines sounded slow,
Until the end. And at the last leaf’s fall,
With nothing moving but the shadowed wall,
We were so still we heard the pines speak low
Outside the frost-starred pane. And it was so:
The tale was done, and all was past recall.

Then down the road of coals the colored train
Of those brave people sank, and there was none
To look back once, and there was none to tell
How they lived after. That forgotten pain
Comes now again, that our few words are done:
Here is the ending; here they said farewell.